


Counting Hours

by Wubspon3



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Implied Character Death, M/M, Poison, TAGS ARE SPOILERS, be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wubspon3/pseuds/Wubspon3
Summary: 24 hours.That was the answer Jack had gotten when he asked about how long it would be before it was too late, before the poison wouldn’t be reversible anymore. He had 24 hours to watch the life of his life die in front of him, with no idea it was happening.





	Counting Hours

24 hours.

That was the answer Jack had gotten when he asked about how long it would be before it was too late, before the poison wouldn’t be reversible anymore. He had 24 hours to watch the life of his life die in front of him, with no idea it was happening.

 

22 hours left, he made sure the count was right, the compulsive time checks not nearly enough to make sure the one day hadn’t slid by too quickly. Shield was working on a cure, they’d find one, they had to. Brock was one of their most valuable agents, once Shield found its footing again, and he came back over with Jack, both vowing never again to Hydra after Insight left them for dead. There was almost a full day left, and the best minds in the world working on it, they’d find _something,_ they had to, statistically, they had to.

 

18 hours

“Let’s just have a lazy day today, stay in bed,” Jack insisted, giving him a gentle nudge in that direction. Six hours after the news, and not even Brock’s head on his chest, body safely next to him, could convince him it would be okay. Every hour that passed without news was another step closer, and the warm space they’d created, the same as every night, couldn’t build up an illusion of safety, not that time.

“Something wrong, hun?” Brock hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary yet, hadn’t felt it advancing, not with the drug cocktail Jack slipped into his food.

Jack sighed, letting a hand fall into hair he’d miss sliding his fingers through. Every creeping hour dragging the inevitability of the situation with it, something neither of them could shake.

“No,” he whispered along the skin he pressed reverent kisses to. “Everything’s fine.”

 

10 hours

Jack woke with a start, clinging tight to the body still asleep on top of him, double and triple checking that it wasn’t just a body yet. 8 hours had passed, according to the clock on the nightstand. 8 precious hours wasted sleeping.

But it wasn’t wasted, not really, not in that false peace that one of them still believed in. As the minutes marched on, he began to accept it just as much as Brock already had, even if it wasn’t consciously.

No matter how they spent it, rebelling against the dying light, or going calmly into the quiet night, now the rising morning, it would come.

 

6 hours

The first thing Jack noticed that actually tipped Brock off to the possibility of something not being right was that they both conveniently got to stay out or work that day.

“We had a project planned, setting up for the next raid, remember? We can’t skip that.”

Jack wanted to spill all of it, right then and there. He knew Brock, knew he would have laughed at first, grinning in the face of death, real or not. But if he did, he knew it would come down soon enough, that was something he didn’t want to deal with. He explained away the meetings out loud, and his own cowardice silently.

 

4 hours

A cough. That was the first sign. That’s what they said it would be, and for once, they were right. It wasn’t severe yet, it wouldn’t be for hours more, but it was enough to make Jack perk up every time he heard it, a horrible sound that would be almost normal to anyone else.

“Fuckin’ allergies,” Brock muttered, and Jack almost laughed.

Of course that’s what he’s assume, of  _course_ it was. Brock had no reason to assume he was hours away from death, and spring was just appearing, why would it be anything but allergies?

For a moment, Jack almost managed to convince himself, too.

 

1 hour

Jack hadn’t bothered explaining why he pulled Brock onto his lap again, the distance between them even pressed next to each other being too much to handle. He didn’t say anything when he rested his forehead against the shoulder of the man facing him, or when he put a hand on the back of Brock’s head, bringing him closer still. It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t.

Soon, he knew, it would. But there would be no one to remind him of that except his own regrets.

 

30 minutes

“What do you mean?” Brock still hadn’t moved from his lap, content to lean against Jack’s chest, even if it wasn’t quite so relaxed anymore.

“In the drawer, second from the top. It’s still there, I was gonna give it to you this weekend.” There were a lot of things he was  _going_ to do, but never would, now that he thought about it, including that simple gold ring in an understated box, nothing flashy, just like they wanted.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for ruining the surprise, you big dummy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” It caught in Jack’s throat, but if Brock noticed the hitch, he didn’t say anything about it.

 

10 minutes

It was all he could say anymore, the desperate murmurs, as if that was a cute in itself. “I love you. God, I love you so much, more than you know, I love you.” If it weren’t for the way his voice wavered, it would have sounded like a sappy romance, but he had the feeling Brock knew what was coming by then.

Allergies didn’t usually make people spit out thick, inky blood.

 

15 seconds

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah, hun?” He hated the pause, the way his voice shook even after steeling it. It was nothing more than a dry whisper, but the volume didn’t matter with the proximity.

“I do.”


End file.
